CPR in real-life is violent. Compressions are done so forcefully there's a maximum possibility of breaking the sternum and ribs. One person is pumping a bag attached to an oxygen mask forcing the lungs to expand and contract so that the blood is being oxygenated to keep the brain alive. People are trading off in a cycle to keep compressions going in a desperate attempt to keep the heart beating, blood cycling, life going.
The family watches as a team of people beat up their loved one trying to save a life.
Someone yells, "Clear!" as the defibrillator finishes cycling up. A jolt of electricity is delivered to the heart. The body convulses.
The family walks down the hall, weeping, in shock.
People come running down the hallway past them as Code Blue is announced over the PA system. They crowd around the room, waiting for instructions.
"I need......"
A nurse goes running.
We wait our turn to do anything, eyes glued to the monitor waiting for any sign of rhythm.
"Can I say a prayer?" a family member asks me.
"Of course! Go right ahead," I tell her.
"No, I can't say it right here. I need to say it in my loved one's ear, so they can hear it."
I look away from the teary eyes pleading with me to the group of people working. There are so many people surrounding the body.
"Can you say it right here with me?"
"No. You don't understand. I need to say it in the ear so it can be heard by the one for whom it is meant."
I glance up at the monitor.
Flat lines.
Compressions have stopped. The doctor who just stopped compressions and called time of death looks at me talking to the family member and motions for them to come back in the room. The family member can say all the prayers they need to say now. We've done all we can do.
I walk away, adrenaline still pumping. "Can I say a prayer in the ear?" I choke up a bit. It would have been my dad's 62nd birthday. Death has visited another family. Can't think about that right now. I have a job to do. 12 people need me to help them. I wash my face in the bathroom, plaster a smile on my face, and serve the living.
I'm sorry you had a hard day. I hope you can feel better soon.
ReplyDeleteWow. I taught CPR to Healthcare providers for 3 years. I have never had to perform it on a person.
ReplyDeleteI hear my mom and sister tell stories and can't imagine dealing with all that. When my best friend lost her baby at 39 weeks on Christmas Eve - I didn't know what to so or say. Crystal came and dress the baby and took some pictures. I was in awe at her courage and control of emotion.
It takes a special person to work in the medical field.